Blindsided
by spns
Summary: When Sam suddenly loses his vision, the Winchesters find themselves stuck in a town where something strange is going on. Now, Sam and Dean have to try and work around Sam's blindness to solve this mysterious case.
1. Chapter 1

**Once upon a time I promised MysteryMadchen that I would write a blind!Sam fic. I had plans to write another fic before this one, but I had this idea and I just went with it. I hope everyone enjoys it. :)  
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**Takes place in season 2, sometime between **_**Hunted**_** and **_**Born Under a Bad Sign**_**.**

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><p>There was nothing remarkable about Carlos, Minnesota, Dean thought, except maybe the fact that just outside of town there was a strip club called Lookers. Which, okay, was a little bit strange for a town with a population of 702. Talk about getting your priorities straight – the town didn't even have any place to get groceries other than the gas stationbait shop which happened to be just down the street from the strip joint. Dean was hungry though, and they were passing by, so he and Sam stopped at a cafe called Herby's.

Herby wasn't around, apparently, because the only employees working at the time were two teenage girls wearing way too much makeup and way too many piercings. Still, Dean was going to tip their waitress generously. If not because she was an excellent server, then because she was wearing a really great, low cut top. Also, her name tag said Trixie. Dean told Sam that Trixie had a future working at Lookers, and Sam called Dean a pervert.

The cafe served breakfast all day, and Dean ordered a breakfast sampler, which included a little bit of everything. Sam had a ham and cheese omelet. They finished off the meal with coffee and Dean sat back in the booth contentedly as he studied the small restaurant. Other than Sam and Dean, there were only three other customers in the cafe: a middle aged couple sitting at the other end of the dining area who were just a little bit too lovey-dovey for Dean's liking, and an older woman with white, curly hair and a cat on her sweater who couldn't seem to keep her eyes off Sam.

"Looks like you got a new girlfriend, Sammy." Dean teased.

Sam shot him an unimpressed look, but lowered his head anyway in an attempt to hide from the woman's gaze. Dean smiled at her and waved.

As they walked through the parking lot to the Impala, Dean patted his full stomach and yawned. "You wanna drive?" He asked his brother. "I'm gonna try and take a nap so we don't have to stop later."

Sam held his hand out for the keys without a word and they jangled as he took them and walked around to the driver's door. They didn't have anywhere to be, exactly, but the thought of getting a hotel and turning in for the night made Dean feel restless. He wanted to put as many miles between them and their latest hunt as possible. A demon in North Dakota left a bad taste in Dean's mouth when it knew a bit more about Sam than what Dean was comfortable with. They exorcised it and sent it back to hell, but Dean felt better and better the more miles he put between Sam and that memory.

They hadn't been driving for ten miles when the car came to an abrupt, screeching halt in the middle of the road. Dean wasn't quite asleep yet, but wasn't fully awake either – drifting somewhere in between, fantasizing about the girls at Lookers. The sudden stop jolted him awake though, and he was immediately on the defensive, looking for any sign of danger.

"Shit, Sam, what the hell?" Dean demanded once he decided there was no immediate threat to their lives. He twisted in his seat and looked over his shoulder, relieved to see no other cars on the road.

"Dean."

"What are you trying to do, get us killed?"

"_Dean." _Sam repeated, and his voice held a tone of fear that Dean picked up on immediately. Now that he was looking, Dean noticed that Sam hadn't moved a muscle since stopping the car. He remained bolt upright, fingers tight around the wheel and gaze locked on to the road ahead. Dean followed Sam's stare, but only saw empty asphalt in front of them. Nothing to warrant the unexpected stop.

"What?"

"I can't see."

Dean was so taken aback by Sam's declaration that he almost laughed. "What do you mean you can't see?"

"What the hell do you _think_ I mean?" Sam was getting snippy now, anger fueled by fear, and Dean blinked in surprise. Sam had to be playing some stupid joke, right? People don't just spontaneously go blind, do they? Sam's face, though, was telling a different story. Panic painted his features, contorting every expression into a worried frown. He was scared.

"Uh." Dean said dumbly, but for whatever reason, he couldn't bring himself to believe it. He reached out and brought his hand quickly to Sam's face, stopping just inches before actually slapping Sam on the forehead. Sam narrowed his eyes at the small burst of air but didn't flinch away from the movement. Dean snapped his fingers in front of Sam's eyes, and Sam frowned and brought his arm up to swat at Dean's hand.

I"m serious, Dean." Sam snapped.

"But how..."

"I don't know!" Sam threw his arms up in an exasperated motion, nearly smacking Dean upside the head.

"Okay, okay." Dean said, putting his hands up in a defensive gesture that Sam couldn't see. "We'll go to a hospital, huh? Get you checked out."

"Yeah." Sam answered, blinking furiously. His hands still clenched the steering wheel, his knuckles white from the force of the grip.

They sat in silence for a beat, and Dean was glad that the road was so empty. It would look strange to a passer-by to find a car parked right in the middle of the road. Finally, Dean said, "You want me to drive?"

Sam swung his arm in the general direction of Dean, intending to smack him across the chest but hitting him in the face instead.

"Ow. Jesus." Dean brought a hand up to rub at his nose, then hurried around to the driver's side of the car. When Dean pulled the door open, Sam turned and ran his hands across the top of the door, using it as a support to help him stand. He felt his way around the Impala, never taking his hands off the black metal, then pulled open the passenger door and sat down inside with a _humph. _The whole ordeal took longer than Dean would have liked, and he watched Sam with wide eyes before climbing in the car after him. Sam flinched at the sound of the Impala's door slamming shut.

"I saw a sign for a hospital next town over." Dean informed Sam, but Sam was busy rubbing at his eyes and didn't seem to hear him.

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><p>"Unfortunately I can't find anything wrong with your eyes, Sam."<p>

They were sitting in an optometry room at the Douglas County Hospital in Alexandria. Sam hadn't regained his vision, and Dean was just starting to take in the seriousness of their situation. A part of him, he realized, had been expecting the doctor to laugh and give them a perfectly reasonable explanation. For the first time, it was really dawning on Dean that something was actually wrong with Sam. The doctor looked puzzled, but not at all surprised to have a patient with sudden, unexplained blindness.

"Well that's a good thing, isn't it?" Dean asked.

The doctor shook his head. "If there's nothing physically wrong, then there's nothing I can do to help." He frowned. "You can go see a specialist in the cities if you'd like, but I think it's just another strange case."

"What do you mean, _another_?" Dean pressed.

"Third one this month." The doctor answered. "One other case of blindness and a little girl who just suddenly went deaf. We haven't been able to find a cause."

"Well do you have people looking into it?"

"Yes, of course. We had the water tested, looked for possible causes in the patients' homes, even had the CDC investigating."

"And you found nothing." Sam concluded. Dean and the doctor both looked to Sam, who had been quiet until that point. His head was tilted downward so it appeared he was looking at his lap, but Dean understood with sick realization that he wasn't actually looking at anything. His forehead was wrinkled though, eyebrows pinched, and Dean knew he was thinking. Probably thinking the same thing Dean was – this was a case.

"I'm sorry." The doctor confirmed. He gave Dean packets and brochures with information on blindness and phone numbers for help, along with a long white cane with a black handle and red tip.

Dean gave Sam the cane but he refused to use it, insisting instead on keeping in contact with Dean's arm until they were back at the Impala.

In the car, Sam was quiet for a long time as Dean searched for a hotel. Dean kept shooting his brother anxious glances, waiting for him to say something, but Sam barely even moved. Dean finally settled on an AmericInn just a few miles outside of town in the direction of Carlos. They were going to have to do some investigating, and Carlos was a good place to start. It was the only town they had stopped in for a couple hundred miles, and right after leaving, Sam had lost his vision.

The man behind the desk at the AmericInn was frustratingly slow as he ran Dean's fake credit card and set him up with a room. Dean couldn't help tapping his finger on the counter impatiently and throwing worried looks over his shoulder to where he had left Sam waiting in the car. Once he finally had the room key, Dean didn't bother with the cane in the back seat. Instead, he stood close enough to Sam that their shoulders maintained constant contact as they walked. He didn't want to insist on guiding Sam because he knew Sam's stubbornness wouldn't allow that to happen, but Sam reached up and rested his fingertips on Dean's forearm anyway. They took slow, careful steps and didn't talk except for when they reached the sidewalk and Dean warned Sam of the small step up.

The walls of the room were painted a sickening shade of brown, and Dean almost commented on it before he remembered the situation and bit his tongue just in time. This was going to take some getting used to. Sam found his way to one of the beds and sat as Dean brought in their things. After a few quick trips, everything was situated and Dean sat down on the remaining bed and just looked at Sam for a moment. It felt wrong, though, like he was invading Sam's privacy. He wanted to talk about it – okay, maybe not _wanted to_ exactly, but he knew they should. As much as his brain screamed at him to just say something already, Dean didn't have the slightest clue of where to start. Finally, he settled on just grabbing two beers from the cooler. He twisted the cap off of Sam's beer before holding it out to him. When Sam didn't reach out for the bottle, Dean kicked himself mentally and tapped the bottom of it against Sam's shoulder. Sam reached up instinctively and took it. His fingers ran over the brown glass, tracing the top of the bottle where Dean had removed the cap. He frowned.

"I can open my own beer, Dean." Sam grumbled.

"Yeah, I know you can."

Sam set the bottle down without taking a drink, and Dean sighed. It was a barely audible sound, but Sam's frown deepened.

"Sorry to be such a burden." Sam said, venom in his voice.

"I didn't say anything." Dean answered. He wasn't surprised at Sam's hostility. Sam was scared. He was scared, too, but that didn't mean he had to put up with Sam's bitchy attitude.

"You didn't have to." Sam retorted. "I can hear all your little sighs and groans. Christ, Dean, I can practically _hear_ you rolling your eyes at me. I know you don't want to _babysit _me_. _Trust me, I don't like it any more than you do."

"Don't put words in my mouth." Dean snapped. He felt a little bad for how angry he was getting, but he had been taking care of Sam his whole life. This was no different. It was new and confusing and unknown, and maybe Dean didn't have a clue what to do, but helping Sam had never been the issue. Sam knew this, of course. Dean was sure that his brother was just looking for an argument as a way to vent his frustration. Better to get angry than appear weak. It was a defense mechanism that their father had subconsciously drilled into them their entire lives.

"You don't want my help right now?" Dean continued. "Fine. But I'm not going anywhere. When you get over your little temper tantrum, I'll be here and we can figure this out together." Maybe Dean was being unfair. Surely going blind was a good enough excuse to have a bad mood, but Sam's stubbornness wasn't helping anything, and Dean didn't plan on letting Sam sulk.

Sam scowled and reached for the beer he had placed on the counter. In his haste, though, he ended up just knocking the bottle over, and the beer spilled over the side of the counter and onto the floor. Sam cursed and buried his face in his hands. Dean moved to Sam's bed and sat next to his brother. When his arm brushed against Sam's, Sam flinched, but didn't raise his head from his hands.

"Sammy." Dean said softly. Sam didn't respond. "Come on, Sam. Hey. You heard the doctor. Something weird is going on here. This is a case. We can fix this."

Sam straightened and turned his head in Dean's general direction. His eyes remained mostly closed though, and Dean thought Sam probably didn't even notice. When you can't see, you don't really worry too much about weather your eyes are opened or closed. Still, Dean took Sam's attention as a good sign, and he nudged his arm lightly.

"In the mean time, we can get you some bad-ass sunglasses. Or maybe something like Cyclops from X-Men."

Sam smirked a little at that. It was forced, Dean could tell, but it was a step in the right direction.

"See?" Dean said, standing from Sam's bed and grabbing another beer. "Everything will be alright." He handed Sam the beer and smiled as Sam twisted off the top and took a drink. "For now though, we should get some sleep. Not much we can do tonight. We'll head back to Carlos first thing in the morning."

Sam took another drink from his bottle as he considered Dean's words. "Don't know how much help I'll be." He said after a bit.

"Are you kidding?" Dean asked playfully. "If we run into any trouble you can whack someone over the head with that walking stick of yours."

Sam snorted. "Shut up. God you're such a jerk."

Dean chuckled and took a drink from his own beer. "Bitch." He answered affectionately.

Whatever this was, whatever had happened to Sam, Dean was going to fix it.

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><p><strong>Alrighty! I have this story pretty much done already, so updates will be quick. However, I'm very busy this weekend and I'm going to be out of town, so I wont be able to post the next chapter until Sunday. It will be up Sunday, I promise!<strong>


	2. Chapter 2

**Thanks for reading, everyone! :D**

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><p>After only forty-five minutes in Carlos, they were already at a dead end. The obvious choice had been to stop back at Herby's cafe. Trixie was working again, and Dean asked her vague questions about whether or not she had noticed anything strange in the past month. The girl was practically the definition of dumb blonde, though, and she had no useful information. Every time she opened her mouth, Dean was more and more convinced of her future at Lookers. The other waitress, Rachel, had the day off, but Dean managed to get her name and home address from Trixie without any real effort, and they paid her a visit, too. Rachel, though obviously smarter than her co-worker, also wasn't aware of anything out of the ordinary in town and had nothing to offer the investigation. The whole thing turned out to be a waste of time, and Dean didn't gain anything from it except the phone number of one very underage waitress.<p>

It didn't help that Sam was in a terrible mood. Between his tossing and turning all night and his frequent trips to and from the bathroom, Dean wasn't sure that Sam had gotten any sleep at all. He tried to sympathize with his younger brother, but after their only two leads turned out to be useless, Dean's temper was about ready to boil over. After what had to be the hundredth exaggerated sigh from Sam in less than an hour, Dean had had it. Sam wasn't being helpful, and they needed ideas.

"Jesus, Sam." Dean snapped after they had left Rachel's and were once again alone in the car. "I kind of thought you would want to solve this one."

Sam was immediately on the defensive. "What do you want, Dean? I can't do anything except follow you around."

"What do I want?" Dean repeated incredulously. "I want you to put away the violin and help me out. I know you can't see, but last time I checked you could still talk. You didn't say a word to either of those girls."

"You were doing enough talking for the both of us." Sam retorted. "You were more interested in hooking up with one of them than getting information."

Dean glared at Sam, and it made him even more angry that Sam couldn't see the expression. "That's not true and you know it."

Sam folded his arms across his chest and turned his face away from Dean. "Whatever. Hey, at least if we can't solve this you can just leave me here and you won't have to worry about killing me some day. Even if I do turn evil, I don't know how much damage I'll be able to do if I can't see."

Dean clenched his fists on the steering wheel. "Knock it off, Sam. How many times I have to tell you, that's never going to happen."

Sam laughed once. The noise was sharp and mocking. "Yeah right. You're not big on defying a direct order from Dad. Why would you start now?"

Dean's jaw tightened instinctively at the mention of their father. There were so many things he wanted to say to Sam, none of them pleasant, but this conversation had already gone way off track and it wasn't helping them any more than Sam's unwillingness to participate. He took a deep breath through his nose.

"Can we just concentrate on trying to figure this out?" Dean asked, not really any more calm than a minute ago, but trying his best to stay focused and not lose his temper.

"Whatever." Sam grumbled. They sat in silence for a moment, then Sam spoke up. "What about the other people in the cafe yesterday? The couple and the older lady. We could talk to them."

Dean could have pointed out the fact that they had no idea who those people were – for all they knew, the love birds and the old woman weren't even from the area and had already left town – but he kept his mouth shut. It wasn't a bad idea, and it was the only one they had.

"Good." Dean encouraged, and turned the car back in the direction of Herby's.

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><p>Trixie lit up when she saw Sam and Dean enter the cafe for the third time in less than two days. Her eyes followed Dean carefully as he made his way to the cash register where she stood, but only flickered to Sam for a brief second. Dean wasn't sure if the girl was just trying to be polite by not focusing on Sam, or if she honestly hadn't paid enough attention the day before to realize that Sam now had a new accessory helping him move around without walking into a wall.<p>

"You guys just can't stay away." Trixie commented, and Dean responded with a forced chuckle and a nod.

"We were actually wondering if you knew anything about the other people who were here yesterday at the same time as us. There was a couple over there." Dean pointed across the restaurant. "And an older woman sitting there."

"Does this have anything to do with those weird questions you were asking earlier?" Trixie asked. "Something about strange stuff going on in town?"

"Yeah. We're looking for something." Dean answered vaguely.

Trixie shrugged, apparently satisfied with the explanation, and tucked the rag she was holding into her apron pocket. "The couple was Mr. and Mrs. Larson. They live down by the park. Mr. Larson is a teacher at the high school in Alexandria, and Mrs. Larson sells houses or something."

Dean gave her a smile, encouraging her to continue.

"The older woman is Hazel." Trixie paused. "I'm not sure what her last name is. She comes in every Friday afternoon. Really sweet lady."

"Do you know where Hazel lives?" Sam spoke up for the first time, and Trixie looked at him like he had suddenly appeared out of thin air and interrupted her and Dean's conversation.

"Oh." She responded. "Uh, I think she lives on the edge of town by the lake. I'm not sure though."

Dean nodded and looked around the cafe. A solo man seated at one of the booths was the only other customer in the place. They had no solid leads, and Dean figured anything was worth a try. "Thanks, Trixie. You've been really helpful. What do you say, Sam, want to stay for lunch?"

Sam raised an eyebrow. "Alright."

Before Trixie could offer them a seat somewhere else, Dean brushed past her and headed in the direction of the man at the booth, walking slowly and taking deliberately heavy steps so Sam could follow. He chose the table closest to the man, and Trixie brought them two menus, giving Sam an awkward look before handing them both to Dean.

"What are we doing, Dean?" Sam asked in a low voice, pulling off the sunglasses Dean had bought him and rubbing at his eyes.

"Just covering all the angles." Dean replied.

When Trixie came back to take their order, Sam ordered the soup of the day. Dean frowned at the menu. The soup of the day happened to be clam chowder, which Dean knew for a fact Sam hated.

"You sure, Sam?" Dean asked carefully, but the harsh set of Sam's jaw warned Dean to just drop it. "I'll have pancakes." Dean said, quickly changing the subject. If Sam refused to eat the soup once he found out what it was, Dean could switch with him. He wasn't big on clam chowder either, but he would eat it, and Sam could have the pancakes.

Sam didn't complain as he ate his soup, but he made a face every time he put a spoonful into his mouth. Dean ate his pancakes and watched Sam with a half-amused, half-concerned look on his face. He offered to trade, but Sam shot down that idea right away, saying, "I ordered it, I'll eat it."

Half way through their meal, Dean leaned back in his chair toward the man in the booth next to them. "Hey." He said in a friendly tone, hoping to break the ice and make the man feel comfortable enough to talk to him. "You got any extra napkins over there?"

The man barely looked up from his newspaper as he handed Dean a wad of napkins from the little black holder on his table.

"Thanks." Dean said. "Hey, you look like you might be a fisherman. You from around here?" In reality, the man looked more like a business man than a fisherman. He was wearing a button down shirt with a blazer and an expensive looking watch, but that wasn't the point. Dean's inquiry got his attention, and he looked up from the paper.

"Yeah, I live here." The man answered. "Don't do much fishing anymore, but I used to go out with my dad."

"Oh yeah?" Dean turned to give the man his full attention. "We're staying in a cabin up at the park. Doing some fishing this weekend. This lake any good?"

"Sure. Good walleye lake."

"Great." Dean said, feigning excitement. "You know, I've heard some weird stories about this place, though. Some unexplained stuff happening. I heard it might be haunted or something."

The man laughed. "I don't know where you get your information, but I've lived here my whole life. Place definitely isn't haunted, even if I did believe in that kind of thing. If anything, it's just boring. Probably a couple kids just making up stories to entertain themselves."

"Right." Dean's frustration flared up again. Nobody in this town seemed to have any idea that something strange was happening. "Nice talking to ya."

He turned back to Sam and they finished their meals in silence.

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><p><strong>This chapter probably wasn't all that exciting, but I hoped you enjoyed it anyway.<strong>  
><strong>Next chapter on Tuesday? Or maybe tomorrow...<strong>


	3. Chapter 3

**Thanks again everyone who read/reviewed! :D**

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><p>Sam was quiet again in the car as they made their way to the Larsons', and Dean decided that a little music might do them both some good. He found a radio station playing decent music and tapped his thumbs against the steering wheel distractedly as he drove. Sam stared out – or turned his face the general direction of – the window and didn't say a word.<p>

Dean didn't know what a school teacher and a realtor could have to do with Sam losing his sight, or a sweet old lady for that matter. Or two young waitresses, or hell, anybody in this crappy little town, but he couldn't admit to Sam that he didn't know what to do, though he was sure Sam was completely aware of that fact. Still, plan or no plan, Dean wasn't going to give up until he had some answers.

"We're here." Dean informed Sam as he put the car in park in front of a mailbox that read Larson. For a realtor, Mrs. Larson's house wasn't all that great looking, though none of the houses Dean had seen in Carlos really were. He shuffled his feet up the sidewalk and Sam followed slowly, swinging his walking stick from side to side in front of him.

"Hi." Dean said when Mr. Larson answered the door. "I'm Dean, this is my brother Sam. Would you mind if we asked you a few quick questions?"

Larson looked unsure. "You're not going to try and convince me to read the Bible are you?"

Dean snorted. "No."

Larson smirked a little and tilted his head to the side as he looked at Sam and Dean. Dean didn't particularly like the look Larson gave Sam, but the man must have decided that they were trustworthy because he swung the door open and welcomed them inside. The inside of the house was surprisingly nice compared to the outside appearance. The entryway was made up of dark oak furniture and stone tile flooring. They passed the living room where Dean noticed an over-stalked bookshelf and leather furniture in front of a stone fireplace. Dean stayed close to Sam's side as they made their way to the kitchen, making sure that he didn't accidentally bump into a table or shelf and break something valuable.

"What can I do for you boys?" Larson asked once they were all seated around the kitchen table. Sam sat in a chair adjacent to Dean and remained unmoving with his dark shades covering his eyes. It made Dean uncomfortable to see his brother like that, and he wondered what Larson was thinking of them.

"I'm going to be honest with you, Mr. Larson." Dean started. Because for one, he didn't have the patience to beat around the bush and try to coax out the answers he was looking for, and two, Sam was blind. Nobody was going to believe they were from the FBI, CDC or any other organization with an acronym for a name. "We think something might be going on in this town. Have you noticed anything strange in the past month or so? Anything at all?"

Larson looked at Sam again and a wave of understanding washed over his expression. "So it happened to you, too?"

Dean blinked in surprise. "What happened to us, too?"

"Not you." Larson clarified. He turned to Sam. "You."

"Mr. Larson, do you know something?" Sam asked. He was tense now, leaning forward in his seat, hands gripping the edge of the table.

"I'm afraid not." Larson shook his head. "Not anything more than you boys do, I'm sure. It's just... well it happened to my buddy Brad, too. 'Bout three weeks ago. We were playing a game of golf and suddenly he couldn't see. Doctors said they didn't know what caused it."

"And your friend Brad, he's still blind?" Sam asked. Dean could hear the fear in Sam's voice, and he knew that the only thing Sam wanted right at that moment was to hear Larson say the word _no_.

"Yeah." Larson said instead, and Sam visibly slumped in his chair. "I'm sorry. The doctors don't know what to do. The CDC couldn't figure anything out. It's a mystery."

"What was Brad doing before the game of golf?" Dean asked.

Larson sat back as he tried to recall details. "Well, it was a Saturday. I don't know, guys, we met out on the golf course at ten in the morning and it just happened 'bout a half hour later."

Dean tried to put the new information together in his head, but there were still too many pieces missing. "Do you have Brad's address? We'd like to talk to him if you don't mind."

Larson shrugged. "Sure, but don't expect him to give you any solutions. He doesn't know anything more than you do."

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><p>"Damn it, where is this guy's house?" Dean demanded.<p>

After nearly twenty-five minutes of unproductive driving, they still hadn't found a house matching the description they had of Brad's. It was outside of town, ten miles in the opposite direction of their hotel. Sam kept nodding off in the car, and Dean knew he should let Sam get some sleep. After Brad, if they didn't get any new information, they would call it an early day and get back to the hotel.

"I keep telling you that you should get a GPS." Sam pointed out after Dean turned the car around for what had to be the fiftieth time. "We travel all over the place. It would be helpful."

"For the last time, Sam, I am not putting a GPS in my car. We get along just fine without it."

Sam sighed and leaned his head back against the seat once more. After just a couple short minutes, his breathing evened out and he was asleep again.

Dean finally found the place. Down a long dirt driveway hidden by a row of pine trees. The uneven ground between the car and the front door made Dean nervous. Worried about Sam tripping on a rock or tree root, Dean brushed shoulders with him as they walked, and warned him of any bumps or dips in their path. Sam didn't protest the extra help and that worried Dean, too, because it was a good indication of just how tired Sam really was. By the time they were half way to the front step, Dean was feeling inexplicably apprehensive about the whole thing.

"You think this Brad guy will know anything?" Sam asked.

"I don't know." Dean answered honestly. "But he might have some information that he doesn't even know is important. He doesn't know the things we do, right?"

"Yeah." Sam agreed softly, then stumbled over a rock. Dean caught him before he fell.

"Sorry." Dean said, looking over Sam for any signs of damage. "You okay?"

"I'm fine." Sam insisted, pulling away from Dean's grasp. "Don't apologize. You shouldn't have to watch where I'm walking."

Dean would have replied, but they were at the front door, so he knocked instead. A woman who must have been in her sixties opened the door. She had kind, tired eyes, and she wiped her hands with a dishcloth as she smiled at Sam and Dean.

"Can I help you?" She asked.

"I'm Dean. This is my brother Sam." Dean gestured to Sam and the woman's face turned curious as she took in his appearance and realized he was blind. "Mr. Larson sent us." Dean said, realizing that he had never even gotten Larson's first name. "We thought maybe we could talk to Brad? See, the same thing happened to my brother just yesterday. We were passing through town and..." He trailed off, for some reason feeling nervous about saying the word _blind_. Anyway, the woman should be able to fill in the blanks without Dean actually having to say it out loud.

"I went blind." Sam finished for him, and Dean felt incredibly stupid. "Out of nowhere. It just happened."

The woman smiled. "I'm Carol." She said. "I'm Mr. Lanners' personal home care aid. He just sat down by the radio with some coffee. I'm sure he wouldn't mind talking with you, though. You said Kyle sent you?"

"Kyle Larson?" Dean confirmed. "Yeah."

Carol ushered them inside, and they followed her into the living room where a man sat in a recliner, listening to a baseball game and sipping a cup of coffee.

"Mr. Lanners, you have visitors." Carol announced.

Brad Lanners tilted his head toward the sound of Carol's voice and smiled excitedly. "Come in." He said, reaching to the radio and turning down the volume.

Dean led Sam to the couch and tugged lightly on his shirt sleeve as he sat. Sam followed his lead and sat on the couch next to him. They introduced themselves and explained that Kyle Larson had sent them. At the mention of his friend, Brad went off into a story of a baseball game he and Kyle had gone to together. Dean studied the room as Brad talked, and noticed a few framed pictures of Brad with an attractive brunette woman and a young boy.

"Cute kid." Dean commented. Then, realizing Brad couldn't see what he was talking about, added. "In the picture on the coffee table there."

"Oh, yeah, that's my son Cody." Brad said. The excitement from the baseball story was gone and he sounded sad. He sipped his coffee and frowned.

"That your wife, too?" Dean pressed. He didn't see any signs that a young boy lived in the house, and Brad was obviously upset about something pertaining the kid. Maybe something had happened to Cody. Maybe it was a clue.

Brad sighed. "Yeah, that's Amanda. She left me shortly after I went blind. Took Cody with her."

"Oh, I'm sorry." Dean said awkwardly, looking to his lap.

"Nah, it's my fault." Brad sighed again. "I was a drunk. Spent all my time at that strip club in town. Amanda deserved better than me."

Dean scratched at a stain on his jeans uncomfortably. "Well, the reason we're here is because we think the same thing that happened to you happened to Sam."

Brad raised an eyebrow at the news. "Yeah?"

"Yeah." Sam confirmed. "We were just passing through town and suddenly I couldn't see."

Brad's expression turned thoughtful and he took another drink of coffee. "That's interesting. It must be something in town then, right? I mean, it has to be. Doctors say they don't know anything."

"They told me the same thing." Sam said. "We were hoping maybe you had some idea?"

"I'm afraid not." Brad answered, looking deflated once again.

"Can you tell us what you did that day?" Dean asked. "Before it happened?"

Brad nodded and wrinkled his forehead as he thought. "Woke up around eight, had breakfast at home with the wife and kid, mowed the lawn, then I went to meet Kyle out on the golf course and it just happened."

"Is there anything at all that you think could have caused it?"

"No. It was just a normal day."

Dean frowned and tapped his shoe against the floor in frustration. "What about the day before?" He asked. He was grasping at straws, he knew, but there had to be something there. Something he was missing.

"Ah, let's see." Brad ran a hand through his hair. "I went to work–"

"Where do you work?" Dean interrupted.

"Brenton Machine downtown." Brad answered. "After work I stopped at Herby's for a late lunch, then I went home and watched some TV, and then I.. uh, well..."

Dean swallowed hard. His pulse raced and he glanced at Sam. Sam's jaw was clenched, and Dean knew Sam was thinking the same thing as him. Brad ate at Herby's the day before he went blind. Sam ate there the same day he lost his vision. It was the only thing in common. Whatever was happening, it had to be happening at the cafe.

"What?" Dean encouraged Brad to finish his sentence.

"Well, I went to Lookers that night. Had a few drinks. Then I went home and went to bed."

Sam hadn't been to Lookers. It was Herby's. It had to be.

"Thanks, Mr. Lanners." Dean said, tapping Sam on the arm and standing from the couch. "If we figure anything out we'll let you know."

Brad nodded. "Do that." He said, then turned the volume back up on his baseball game and reclined his chair.

They thanked Carol and headed back out to the car. Dean barely made it into the driver's seat before excitement got the better of him.

"Did you hear that?" Dean asked. "Brad ate at Herby's the day before he went blind. It has to be our connection."

"Could be just a coincidence." Sam interjected.

Dean smirked and started the engine. "No such thing as coincidences, Sammy."

* * *

><p><strong>Thanks, guys! I hope you're enjoying this story, and I hope you're wondering what's going on! I know this isn't as extreme in the hc category as my last fic (other than the blind thing, obviously) but I promise there will be at least a little bit of action! ;)**

I just want to say, to anyone in London or anywhere else being affected by the riots, please, _please_ be safe.


	4. Chapter 4

**Hi! Thanks again for reading! This chapter is a bit long. It was originally two, but I decided to put them together. **

**I also want to clarify, Brad Lanners is the other person who went blind besides Sam – the one the doctor mentioned. After I posted the chapter, I went back and re-read it and realized that it might have sounded like Brad was a new victim. Just a note so that you're not wondering why they're not going to talk to the other blind person that was mentioned in chapter one. It's Brad. **

**Enjoy.**

* * *

><p>"We need to get some info on that girl who went deaf." Dean said. "See if she fits pattern."<p>

"For all we know she has nothing to do with this." Sam protested. "She went deaf. Brad Lanners and I are blind."

"Yeah but the doctors have no idea what's wrong with her." Dean pointed out. "She lost one of her senses and nobody knows why. I'd bet money that it's related. I say we talk to her. If she ate at Herby's before, we'll know she's connected."

"Yeah, you're right." Sam admitted. He leaned back against the bed and propped his head up on a pillow. "But we should get back to that diner and check it out."

After leaving Brad's, they had bypassed Herby's and went straight back to the hotel. It was early evening. They probably could have fit in a stop at the cafe, but the way Sam kept falling asleep in the car earlier convinced Dean to hold off until tomorrow. Besides, Herby's would still be there in the morning. A good night's sleep and a solid plan would help them out tomorrow when they went back to the cafe.

"We'll go tomorrow." Dean promised. "You need to get some sleep."

"I think I can manage my own sleeping patterns, thanks." Sam scoffed, but his voice was already getting heavy with exhaustion.

"Listen." Dean said before Sam dozed off completely. "I'm going to call Bobby. We need to get that girl's name and address, and the doctors have already seen us. Bobby can say he works for the CDC or something."

"Uh huh." Sam mumbled.

Dean stepped out of the room to make the call. The September air was cool, and he zipped up his jacket a bit before taking a seat on the bench by the vending machines. They hadn't talked to Bobby in a couple of weeks at least, but the older hunter was always willing to help when they found themselves in a tough situation. Dean pulled out his phone and scrolled to Bobby's name in the caller ID.

"Hello?" Bobby's voice was rough on the other end of the line.

"Hey, Bobby." Dean answered.

"Dean!" Bobby exclaimed. "Good to hear from ya. Everything okay?"

"Not really." Dean admitted.

"What's wrong?" Bobby's light, friendly tone was gone.

"Well, it's Sam. He's, uh, blind."

"Blind! What the hell did you two idjits get yourselves into now?"

"We're not sure." Dean admitted. "We were just passing through this town and it just happened. Anyway, we think we have a lead, but we need your help getting some information."

"Anything I can do to help." Bobby said. Dean smiled. He could always count on Bobby.

"We need to get some info on this girl who went deaf earlier this month. We think it could be related. The doctors have already seen us, though."

"Got it." Bobby said. "I'll be there as soon as I can. Where you boys stayin'?"

"The AmericInn just outside of Carlos, Minnesota."

"I'll be there tomorrow afternoon." Bobby promised.

Back inside the room, Sam was snoring softly on his bed, fully clothed and on top of the covers. Dean shook his head and headed to the bathroom for a shower. The hot water worked through his frustration and left him feeling tired, but he was too anxious to sleep. Instead, he sat on his bed and scribbled notes into a pad of paper, trying to work out their next move as Sam snored softly next to him.

* * *

><p>"Dean."<p>

Dean rolled over to his side, mumbled something incoherent, and was snoring again.

"_Dean._" The persistent voice came again. This time Dean registered the voice as Sam's, but didn't hear any urgency in the tone of it, so he ignored it in lieu of sleeping just a little bit longer.

"Get up, Dean." Sam's voice came again, loud and intrusive as an alarm clock and just as annoying. Dean finally rolled over and blinked open his eyes to find Sam sitting on the edge of the other bed, fully dressed and ready to go.

"You okay?" Dean asked, because he had to check.

"I'm fine." Sam said, sounding slightly annoyed.

Dean squinted his eyes at his younger brother. Sam had damp hair and was dressed in different clothes than the night before. Dean would have been impressed, if he wasn't so unnerved that he had slept through Sam rambling around the room, because he must have made a racket.

"Did you shower?" Dean asked.

"Yeah." Sam answered. "Now if you'd just get your ass out of bed we could get going."

Dean's eyes flitted to the clock. The red numbers flashed 7:30am. "Do you know what time it is?" Dean demanded.

Sam shifted and frowned. "No." He admitted finally.

"It's seven thirty, Sam. I was up until at least two. You gotta let me get some more sleep, man."

Sam dropped his head. "Yeah, okay."

Dean tried to ignore the pang of guilt in his stomach. He wasn't exactly sure what he was feeling guilty about. Maybe just for disappointing Sam. He turned over in the bed and closed his eyes, trying to drift back into the peaceful sleep he had been in just moments ago. After at least ten minutes passed and Dean wasn't any closer to falling back asleep, he sighed heavily and pulled himself up into a sitting position facing Sam.

"Alright, let's go."

They were packed and ready to go by eight.

"So what's the plan?" Dean asked as they pulled out of the AmericInn parking lot and onto the empty highway toward Carlos.

"You're the one who was up until two in the morning." Sam pointed out.

"Yeah." Dean agreed. "A lot of good it did me. We've already been to that diner three times and we haven't noticed anything strange."

Sam was quiet, and Dean cleared his throat and continued.

"I figure we'd give it a good once over with the EMF meter, maybe talk to some other staff if we need to."

"Okay." Sam said with a small nod.

They sat in silence for a few miles, then Dean spoke up. "Sammy, you know we're going to figure this out, right?"

Sam turned his head in Dean's direction. "I know you're going to try." He said. "But, Dean, who knows if we'll find anything."

"Enough, Sam." Dean said sternly. "If you had this attitude on every job, we'd never get anything done. Look, it hasn't even been two days and we've already found a solid connection. We _are _going to figure it out."

Sam scowled for a short moment, but then the corner of his mouth slowly turned up into a barely-there smile. "Yeah, I know." He said. "Thanks."

"Just doing my job." Dean said with a smile and a light punch to Sam's shoulder. It was the truth. His job was to find these supernatural things and stop them from hurting people, but more importantly, his job was to watch out for Sammy.

They pulled into the parking lot of Herby's five minutes later, the mutual feeling of camaraderie and determination still strong between them. Dean switched on the EMF meter in his pocket as Sam felt his away to the back of the car. Dean handed him his walking stick and he relaxed visibly, already feeling comfortable with the accessory after just two short days. Dean wondered briefly, if Sam were like this permanently – not that Dean _wanted_ Sam to be blind, just if – would he learn to fully compensate for his missing sense? Dean was sure he had seen a movie once about a blind super hero who had no problem using his other senses to fight crime without a hitch. Sam would be able to learn, Dean decided.

It didn't matter though, because he wasn't lying when he told Sam they were going to fix things. Dean was confident that Sam would be back to normal in under a week, if not later today.

This time when they walked through the doors of Herby's, Trixie narrowed her eyes at them suspiciously. Her suspicion was quickly broken with a smile from Dean, and she smiled back.

"Back again." She said.

Dean nodded. He was glad he hadn't been more specific with the girl about what they were looking for. Though he was sure Trixie was too stupid to be the culprit, she _was _at this diner a lot, and there was at least a possibility that she was the one taking away people's senses. Maybe she didn't even realize she was doing it. How was that possible, though? Maybe an attempt at witchcraft gone wrong. Dean looked her over carefully, but didn't find anything suspicious. She stood with her hands on her hips and an unsure smile on her face, waiting for Dean to ask for a table or explain why they were there again so early in the morning.

"You work a lot." Dean commented.

Trixie shrugged. "It's my weekend to work."

"We think we left something here the other day." Dean explained.

"Nobody found anything." Trixie answered with a frown.

"You don't mind if I just take a quick look around, do you? It'll only take a second."

Before Trixie could answer, Dean brushed past her and began slowly walking down the row of booths, holding the EMF meter in his pocket. He left Sam by the counter with Trixie, and she excused herself quickly and hurried off into the kitchen, probably uncomfortable with the situation.

Dean made his way carefully through the dining area, then into the men's bathroom. When he found nothing, he hesitantly entered the woman's bathroom. Nothing there either. He barged into the kitchen and made his way around the perimeter of the small space once before Trixie intercepted him and told him he had to get out.

"Sorry." He mumbled, and headed back out into the dining area. "Nothing." He whispered as he passed Sam, and they both headed out the door. Once outside, Dean left Sam by the car as he made a quick lap around the building, just to be sure. "Damn it!" He said when he was back at the Impala. "Nothing anywhere around here." He sighed and leaned up against the car next to Sam. "I guess we can go back in and talk to the workers again."

"Whoever it was would have had to be working when all three victims were at the diner." Sam pointed out solemnly. "Trixie and Rachel were the only two working when we were there, Dean. Just face it. We're at a dead end."

Dean was quiet for a moment. "No." He said defiantly. "No, Bobby's going to be here in a few hours and then we can talk to the little girl. There has to be something else that we're missing."

"What?" Sam asked. "The only thing in common between me and Brad Lanners is that we both ate at that diner."

"If I knew what it was, Sam, we wouldn't be missing it." Dean pointed out. "Now come on. Let's stop at the gas station and pick up some coffee and donuts and head back to the hotel to wait for Bobby."

* * *

><p>Sam was on his back on the bed, staring at the ceiling. No, not staring. Even though it was painfully obvious that Sam couldn't see, Dean had to keep reminding himself of the fact. When they were alone and nothing was going on, it was too easy to forget and wonder what was on the ceiling that was so interesting, or why Sam's eyes didn't follow his movement when he reached to grab his coffee or got up and walked to the bathroom. Now, Dean sat on his own bed and tried to brainstorm by going over his notes and jotting down new clues. Sam was distracting though, doing nothing at all on the other side of the room, and Dean found his attention drifting to Sam and what it would be like to be blind.<p>

Once, he tried to keep his eyes closed during a quick trip to the bathroom, but didn't make it halfway before he stumbled over a sweatshirt thrown carelessly on the floor, and Sam's worried _"Dean?"_ brought him back to his senses. He resorted to cleaning up the room as they waited for Bobby.

At twenty minutes after twelve, a knock came on the door. Dean was sure it was Bobby, but he checked the peephole just in case. Through the glass he could see Bobby's slightly distorted form, and he opened the door quickly, ushering the older man into the small room.

"Dean. Sam." Bobby greeted them.

"Hey, Bobby." Sam and Dean's responses were almost simultaneous. "Thanks for coming." Dean added.

Sam and Dean – mostly Dean – filled Bobby in on the situation and what they had up to that point. Bobby listened carefully and nodded through Dean's notes, pausing occasionally for a preoccupied _hmm _or _uh huh. _

"What do you need me to do?" Bobby asked finally.

"Go to the hospital." Dean answered. "Find out about that little girl who went deaf. An address would be great, but even just a name is fine."

Bobby was already on his feet and grabbing the file of information off the desk by the bed. "Stay out of trouble while I'm gone." Bobby said, shooting Dean a look. The warning was intended for Dean, and he understood it for what it really meant. _Look out for your brother. _

"Always do." Dean patted Bobby's shoulder as they walked to the door.

Bobby huffed and pulled his baseball cap lower on his head. "That makes me feel so much better." He grumbled as the door swung closed behind him.

* * *

><p>Thirty minutes later, a knock at the door startled Dean out of his trance, and he looked down to the paper in his hands. Notes had turned to doodles on the notepad. On the other side of the room, Sam was sitting up, head tilted toward the door and a puzzled look on his face. Dean's fingers twitched instinctively toward the gun on the dresser.<p>

"Housekeeping." A female voice shouted from the other side of the door.

Dean relaxed. "No thanks." He shouted back.

The woman knocked again. "Housekeeping." She repeated.

"Come back later." Dean said, louder this time.

The knock came again and Sam tensed. Dean stood slowly from the bed and took a step toward the door.

"I said no thanks."

The woman pounded on the door, more heavy and determined than before. "Housekeeping." She yelled.

Dean spun around to Sam. "Sam, get in the bathroom and lock the door."

Sam wrinkled his nose. "Dean, I'm not going to let you–"

"Don't argue with me!" Dean interrupted in a harsh whisper as he grabbed the sawed-off from the dresser. It was filled with rock salt rounds, but whatever was outside that door, Dean was betting it wasn't a housekeeper.

"_Dean._" Sam protested.

"Damn it, Sam, get in the bathroom _now. _That's an order."

Sam glared, but the direction was off and he ended up scowling at the lamp to Dean's right. Either way, Dean didn't have time to worry about Sam's stubbornness. The knock came again, and Sam huffed and turned toward the bathroom. Dean watched Sam until he heard the click of the lock, then turned and took a cautious step toward the hotel room's door. The knocking was constant now, getting louder.

"Can you come back later?" Dean asked as he moved slowly toward the door, gun raised. "We're kind of busy."

The knocking abruptly stopped, and Dean paused. A second later the door was thrown open and a girl stepped through the doorway, eyes flashing to black. Before Dean could react, he was thrown up against the wall, the gun clattering harmlessly to the floor. He grunted when he hit the wall and then winced when he heard Sam's soft "Dean?" from inside the bathroom. Dean didn't answer, praying the demon had missed the small noise.

Dean wasn't that lucky, though, because the demon's eyes flickered briefly to the bathroom door and she smiled. "Where's your brother, Dean?" She taunted, taking a step closer to where Sam was hiding. "What's the matter? Sammy doesn't want to come out and play? I bet this will change his mind."

The demon clenched her hand into a fist and pain erupted in Dean's chest. He tried to bite his tongue against it, but a small cry escaped his mouth. Dean heard the click of the bathroom door being unlocked, and he tried to warn Sam not to come out, but the pain intensified and he couldn't do anything except try to breathe through it. Sam stepped out of the bathroom, body lowered and fists raised in a defensive position, but he was facing the wrong way. The demon laughed delightedly and Sam immediately turned toward the noise.

"What's the matter, Sam?" The demon asked. "Can't you see? Oh, this is too good. Is it my birthday or something?"

"Go to hell." Sam growled.

"Been there." She answered, moving quickly to Sam's side. She tapped him on the shoulder and then moved before the punch he threw could hit it's mark. "Done that."

With the demon's focus on Sam, the pain in Dean's chest subsided and he watched in horror as she circled Sam. He struggled against the wall, but the movement only made the invisible restraints tighter.

"Sam, right!" Dean yelled as the demon aimed a punch to Sam's face. Sam sidestepped just in time to avoid the hit. "Left!" Dean called as the demon repositioned for another hit. This time, though, she took Dean's direction into consideration and compensated for Sam's movement. The blow hit Sam in the jaw and he stumbled backward, fists still clenched and ready to fight back.

The demon straightened and let out a hearty laugh. She turned to Dean and began strutting toward him. For a moment, Dean was relieved, but then she grabbed a small knife off of the table and turned back to Sam, and Dean's stomach dropped.

"Shit. Sam, she's got a knife."

Sam's eyes widened with fear and he tilted his head toward Dean, waiting for instruction.

"Leave him alone!" Dean shouted. "What do you want?"

"What I want," The demon said, twirling the knife in her hand as she walked back toward Sam. "Is for all of Azazel's _special children_ to die."

"Why?" Dean asked, though he really didn't care. He just needed a distraction. If he could just keep her talking...

"Ever heard of rebelling against authority, Dean? Same basic principle. Azazel has plans for these kids, and I don't want him to be successful."

"What plans?" Sam asked.

The demon circled around to Sam's right. "Doesn't matter, Sam." She said, and Sam spun toward the noise.

"Left, Sam!" Dean shouted as the demon lunged forward, knife outstretched. Sam moved out of the way just in time. The demon smiled.

It didn't make sense. The demon could have killed Sam ten times by now if she wanted to. Dean didn't like to think it, but he knew it was true. Likewise, she could easily cut off their communication, prevent Dean from giving Sam directions. She was playing with him. This was a game. She darted forward again.

"Down!" Dean ordered.

Sam dropped and rolled to the side. The demon was quick though, and she spun around and plunged the knife down toward Sam. The knife pierced his side, and he cried out in surprise and pain. The demon pulled the knife out and stepped back, smiling at her handiwork.

"Sam!" Dean yelled, his own panic starting to get the better of him.

Sam took a shaky breath and got to his hands and knees. "M'fine." He said, but his voice was hoarse, and Dean didn't believe it for a second.

Then, something on the floor caught Dean's eye. The sawed-off he had dropped when he was thrown into the wall. It wasn't too far away from Sam, if Sam could just get to it before the demon. It wouldn't kill the demon, obviously, but the rock salt rounds would distract it. Maybe long enough for... for what? Dean didn't have a plan. Still, doing nothing wasn't going to get them anywhere.

"Sammy, listen to me." He said in a low voice. It was stupid to think the demon wouldn't hear him, but it didn't stop him from trying. He took a breath and quickly said. "There's a gun five feet to your left. Get it, Sam. Go!"

Sam rolled and stopped practically on top of the gun. He felt it under his hand and grabbed it, staggering to his feet and panting from the exertion. The demon didn't move.

"Aim it to the right, Sam." Dean instructed, and Sam moved the gun to the right, finger on the trigger.

The demon laughed and took a step to the left, out of the way of the gun.

"Left." Dean said, and Sam moved the gun left, swaying a little.

"You okay, Sammy?" Dean asked.

"Dizzy." Sam answered.

Dean looked down to where the knife had punctured Sam's side. Blood was soaking through his clothes, dyeing them red.

"You're bleeding." Dean told him. "But you're fine. You're going to be okay."

Sam nodded and readied the gun to shoot. The demon moved again.

"Left." Dean instructed, cursing under his breath. This was never going to work. The demon was just having fun. As soon as she was bored of the game, Sam didn't stand a chance.

Sam took a step left and stumbled. His arm went out for support and he caught himself on the TV stand. He leaned against it, catching his breath.

Out of the corner of his eye, Dean saw movement in the doorway. He moved his eyes slowly toward the door, being careful not to attract the demon's attention. Bobby stood in the doorway holding a folder, his eyes wide. Dean met his gaze and Bobby stepped into the room, taking a flask of holy water from inside his jacket. Dean turned back to Sam and the demon. The demon's back was facing Bobby, and Dean was pretty sure she hadn't noticed him looking.

"Sam." Dean said, voice steady. "Throw the gun."

"What?" Sam asked.

"Just do it!" Dean shouted. "Throw it!"

Sam threw the gun and the demon spun as she watched it fly past her. It landed just feet from Bobby, and he dove to retrieve it. He was back on his feet in an instant, throwing a splash of holy water onto the demon and aiming the gun at the same time. The demon hissed as the holy water hit her, and then cried out when Bobby shot a round of rock salt into her stomach. She staggered backward, and Bobby followed with another splash of holy water and another shot of rock salt. The demon screamed as the water burned her, and she turned back to Sam and Dean, eyes flashing black. A cloud of black smoke filled the air, then disappeared out the window. The girl the demon had been possessing dropped to the floor. The invisible hold on Dean broke and he slid to the floor.

Bobby rushed to the girl. "She's dead." He announced solemnly.

Dean barely shot Bobby and the girl a glance as he ran to Sam, who was now on the floor curled into a ball and breathing heavily.

"She stabbed him." Dean informed Bobby, pulling Sam's shirt up to get a better look at the wound.

"How bad?" Sam panted.

"You'll live." Dean didn't take his eyes off Sam as he barked orders to Bobby. "Bobby, there's a medical kit in my duffle under the bed. Grab it. And get that whiskey on the table."

Bobby was kneeling beside Dean in a matter of seconds with everything Dean had ordered. Sam hissed when Dean poured the whiskey on the wound.

"Sorry, Sammy. Gotta patch you up, you know the drill." Dean handed the bottle of whiskey to Sam and he took a long drink while Dean went to work on the stitches.

By the time Dean was done, Sam's eyes were squeezed closed and he was breathing heavily, teeth clenched against the pain. Dean handed him a few ibuprofen and helped him onto the bed. Sam swallowed the pills and laid a hand protectively over his newly-stitched side.

"Thanks." He said.

"What was a demon doing here?" Bobby demanded.

Dean sat next to Sam on the bed and pressed his hands to his eyes. He was still shaken from the attack, and Sam's uneven breathing wasn't calming his nerves. He realized how careless he had been, and how easily it could have cost him his brother. Sam depended on him to be his eyes and keep him safe, and Dean had been naive enough to think that they were okay just because they were hidden behind the hotel room's walls.

"You okay, Sammy?" Dean asked softly.

Sam didn't answer, but nodded and bit his lower lip. Dean put a comforting hand on Sam's back, and Sam unconsciously leaned against Dean's shoulder

"I don't know, Bobby." Dean said, answering Bobby's earlier question. "She just said she wanted Sam to die."

"And all the children like me." Sam added through his teeth. "All of the demon's special children."

"Sam, you should get some sleep." Dean sad.

Sam grimaced. "I'm an adult, Dean, I'll sleep if I'm tired."

Dean could tell the pain killers were starting to kick in, because Sam's breathing was beginning to even out and he was leaning more heavily on Dean's shoulder.

"Sure, Sam." Dean agreed, and stood from the bed.

Without the added support Dean had provided, Sam sat in an uncomfortable slouch for a long, stubborn moment before giving up and laying back on the bed, arm still clutched to his side. Dean moved to the other side of the room and talked quietly with Bobby about what information he had found on the little girl, and Sam made unhappy noises and tried to join the conversation once or twice.

After it was obvious that Dean and Bobby were ignoring him, he stayed quiet until, several minutes later, he was asleep.


	5. Chapter 5

By the time Sam woke up again, the sun was just a sliver of gold peeking over the hills in the distance. He sat up too quickly and then winced, pressing a hand to his side.

"Dean?" He asked, his voice almost a whisper.

"Morning, sunshine." Dean answered from the table where he was busy cleaning a gun. "Or, night I guess." He amended.

"I slept all afternoon?" Sam said with a frown. He rose slowly from the bed and kept one arm wrapped around his middle while the other felt the air in front of him as he made his way to the bathroom.

Dean ignored the question. He put down the gun and picked up the folder Bobby had left with them. "Hurry up in there." He said as Sam shut the bathroom door. "Bobby got some information on that little girl.

* * *

><p>It was too late to go talk to anyone that night. Any questions would have to be put off until the next day, though Sam made it perfectly clear that he wasn't happy waiting. They ordered a pizza to the room and Dean flipped through the channels on the TV, stopping when he found The Goonies. Sam had seen the movie a hundred times, so Dean didn't feel too bad about the fact that he couldn't see the picture. After the first ten minutes, Dean closed his eyes and imagined the scenes right along with Sam.<p>

Bobby had gone to try and track the demon who attacked Sam. If she was gunning for all the kids like Sam, someone else was next on her list, and if Bobby couldn't figure out who it was, that person would likely be dead shortly. Dean didn't particularly like making Bobby go on a hunt that should have been theirs, but for now he had other things to worry about.

Before Bobby left, he and Dean went over what he had found on the little deaf girl, and Bobby left a folder behind with the girl's name, and her parents' names and addresses. From what Bobby was able to gather, the girl, Ellie Gould, was brought in to the hospital by her parents after she complained that she couldn't hear anything. The doctors confirmed that Ellie was indeed deaf, but were unable to find any cause. Ellie was put into foster care two weeks later, after Child Protective Services decided that Ellie's parents were neglectful and unable to care for a handicapped child. Just days after that, Ellie's father moved to an apartment in Alexandria, leaving Ellie's mother with the house.

"Tough break." Dean had said after filling Sam in on the details. "Going deaf and getting put into foster care in the same month? That's gotta be rough."

Sam frowned and didn't say anything.

* * *

><p>When Dean woke up the next morning, Sam was asleep. Dean had finally drifted off somewhere around two in the morning, and Sam had still been awake then. Dean looked at the clock. 8:00am. He dragged himself out of bed and took a quick shower, careful to leave the bathroom door open in case Sam woke up and needed him, or the demon decided to come back for round two. The shower was uneventful, though, and Sam was still asleep when Dean came back into the room with a towel tied around his waste. He got dressed and considered running into town for coffee. He could probably be back within ten minutes, but he decided it wasn't worth the risk and instead contented himself with finishing cleaning their weapons.<p>

Sam stirred awake at a quarter to nine, and he sat up slowly, rubbing a hand over his eyes and yawning.

"I didn't sleep all day again, did I?" He asked.

"No." Dean answered, jumping to his feet and already throwing things into a bag for their trip to town. "But the day's not getting any longer. Let's get going."

Ten minutes later they were on their way to Carlos. Sam didn't talk during the drive. Dean couldn't believe it, but he missed the annoying chatter that used to fill the car whenever the music wasn't playing. Sam talked about everything. He was too smart for his own good, and a lot of the time Dean couldn't even pretend to understand what he was talking about. Dean would tell Sam to shut up and Sam would for about five miles. Then a billboard would remind him of something, or a thought would occur to him, and he would start up again. Dean could only take so much, and after a while he would always turn on the radio and they would both fall into a comfortable silence as the music played and the miles passed under the tires. Now though, Dean just wished Sam would talk. About anything. Law school, or a nice girl he met, or a hunt, or hell, even his feelings. Dean glanced at Sam. His elbow was propped against the window and his head was in his hand. His lips were pressed into a thin line and there was a worried crease in his forehead. Dean sighed and turned on the radio.

Ellie's mother's house was easy enough to find, right in the middle of town next to a small river. A cool breeze rustled the leaves on the trees in the front yard, and Dean shivered as they walked slowly up the short sidewalk to the front door.

"Can I help you?" Mrs. Gould was a short woman with round cheeks and a fake smile. Her smile faded when she noticed Sam's sunglasses and walking cane, and Dean had to bite his tongue to stop from giving the woman a piece of his mind. He plastered on his own fake smile and began the familiar task of introducing himself and explaining why they were there.

Mrs. Gould was hesitant, but let them in after Dean assured her that he only wanted to help Sam and Ellie get better. She didn't warm up to Sam any, though. If anything, the common ground they shared only made her dislike him more. Sam didn't know, though – unless he could feel the hostility in the air, which was a possibility – so Dean tried to keep his voice calm and even as he talked to the woman. Sam remained silent, but the hard set of his jaw let Dean know he was listening to every word.

"Do you have any idea why Ellie went deaf?" Dean started the questions.

"No." Mrs. Gould answered with an upward turn of her nose. She took a sip of the coffee that she hadn't offered to Sam or Dean. "The doctors said they couldn't find a cause."

"If you don't mind," Dean said carefully. "What was Ellie doing before she went deaf?"

Mrs. Gould sighed as if annoyed by the question. She folded her hands across her lap. "It was Ellie's birthday. September 3rd. She had school most the day, then we took her to Herby's for dinner. It's the only decent restaurant in town. Her father was there, too, and we got in an argument over what we were going to do that weekend for Ellie's birthday. We ended up leaving early. Ellie cried on the way home because she didn't get to have desert. I told her it was her father's fault." Mrs. Gould smirked at that. "Then that was it. A few minutes later she said she couldn't hear."

Dean had heard all he needed. Ellie fit the pattern. There was already no doubt in his mind that Herby's Cafe was the source of the problem, and this made him even more confident. To his left, Sam was slouched in his chair, looking even more forlorn than when they had entered the house, if that was possible. Dean frowned and nudged Sam lightly. Sam sat up straighter, but didn't say anything. Dean thanked Mrs. Gould for her time and led Sam quickly out of the house.

"What's wrong, Sam?" Dean demanded once they were alone in the privacy of the Impala. "Ellie fits the bill. It's all connected. This is a good thing."

Sam shrugged. "We already checked out Herby's, Dean, remember? We didn't find anything."

Okay, so maybe Sam had a point, but that didn't mean it was time to give up and hit the road. Ellie was another piece of the puzzle, and eventually they would find all the pieces. It all took time and patience, but Sam knew that.

"We're getting there." Dean insisted. "Now come on, what's really wrong."

Sam shrugged again and turned his face away from Dean. "Ellie got put into foster care right after she went deaf." Sam said.

Dean blinked as he tried to process what Sam was upset about. "Yeah, Sam, that's sad. No offense to the Gould family, but why do you care?"

Sam sighed heavily like there was some big punch line that Dean just wasn't getting. "Brad Lanners' wife and son left him right after he went blind."

Dean was quiet for a minute, then it clicked what Sam was saying. "Oh." He said. "You think I'm going to leave you?"

"It happened to both of the other victims. Their families left them shortly after their incident." Sam was facing Dean now, a look of determination set on his face.

"It's just a coincidence, Sammy." There was no way in hell Dean was going to leave Sam. "Don't worry. I'm not going anywhere."

Sam turned back to the window. "There's no such thing as coincidences."

* * *

><p>They decided to go back to the diner that night after it was closed. They obviously hadn't gotten anywhere by talking to Trixie or scanning the place for EMF, and Dean decided that the place needed a good thorough search without the interruption of workers or customers. In the mean time, they stopped at the gas station in Carlos for some sandwiches and went back to the hotel to wait for nightfall. A little after six it started to rain. Dean opened the window a crack, just enough for the steady pitter patter of the rain to drown out the silence in the room. Dean didn't know what to say to Sam other than that he wasn't leaving, but that just wasn't doing it for Sam. He was convinced that losing family was a part of whatever was going on, and nothing Dean said made anything better.<p>

"Hold on." Sam said suddenly. It was the first time either of them had spoken in at least an hour, and Dean jumped, startled by the noise. "When did Ellie go deaf?" Sam asked.

Dean searched his brain for the details of their conversation with Mrs. Gould. "September 3rd." He answered. "Her birthday."

"Yeah but what day of the week?"

Dean didn't know where Sam was going with the question, but the fact that Sam was finally participating was enough to get Dean's attention. He pulled out his cell phone and checked the calendar.

"Friday."

Sam slapped his knee and grinned. "Brad Lanners was playing golf on a Saturday when he went blind." Sam said.

"Yeah." Dean agreed, trying desperately to catch up to Sam's revelation.

"But he ate at Herby's the day before. On a Friday."

"Okay." Dean said.

"We ate at Herby's on a Friday." Sam said with a quick shake of his head, like they were both idiots for not seeing the connection sooner.

"You're right." Dean said. It was an interesting fact, but in the end it just led them back to the diner. "But we already knew about Herby's, Sam, I don't–"

"Don't you remember what Trixie said?" Sam interrupted. He was on his feet now, stumbling for his shoes and jacket. "About that old woman? She was there when we were there, Dean. Trixie said she comes in every Friday."

Dean was suddenly as excited as Sam. "Yeah." He said, kicking himself for forgetting about the old woman. "Man, she had her eyes on you, remember? Trixie said she just moved here, too."

"That's it, Dean, it has to be."

Sam was ready to go, and Dean jumped to his feet. He threw together some weapons in a duffel bag, and they wasted no time getting back to town.

* * *

><p><strong>Thanks again for reading! A lot of you guessed the old lady right from the beginning. Do you think this is it? They finally figured it out? <strong>


	6. Chapter 6

It was seven when they pulled into the parking lot of Herby's. The place closed at seven-thirty, and Dean rushed inside, praying that Trixie was working. The bell above the door dinged, and one lonely waitress looked up expectantly.

"Hey." It wasn't Trixie, but Rachel who greeted Dean at the counter. Rachel, the other waitress who was working that first day. Dean recalled his talk with her and smiled, turning on the charm.

"Hey." He replied. "Rachel, right?"

Rachel tucked her bangs behind her ears. "Yeah."

Dean flashed her a smile. "I was wondering if you could do me a favor." He said nonchalantly. "There was an old woman in here last Friday. Hazel? You don't happen to know where she lives?"

"Not really." Rachel said with a pout. When Dean's smile faded she scrambled to add, "But I know she lives by the lake. Her last name is Higgins, I'm sure you could look her up in the phone book or ask around town. Someone will know." Rachel looked at Dean, hopeful.

"Thanks, Rachel." Dean's smile was a bit more genuine, and Rachel nodded fervently and returned the look. "See you around." Dean said as he turned to leave.

"I hope so." Rachel called after him.

Sam was waiting impatiently in the Impala. The second Dean's door creaked open, Sam twisted toward the noise.

"You get it?" He asked.

"I got a last name and a general location." Dean answered. "We'll stop at the gas station and look in a phone book."

* * *

><p>By the time they found an address for Hazel, it was already after eight. Dean wasn't waiting around until morning, though. Not this time. They were too close to the end. Just one more piece and the puzzle would be complete. Sam was going to be fully functional before they went to sleep again in that crappy hotel.<p>

"This is it." Dean said. They were parked in front of a small log cabin on the lake, surrounded by evergreen trees. A thick line of smoke trailed from the chimney. Dean checked his pocket for the handgun he had there.

They snuck up to the house quietly – well, as quietly as they could with Sam shuffling his feet in the gravel of the driveway. Sam stood out of view of anyone who might peer out from the house, and Dean cautiously stepped in front of the front window and cupped his eyes to the glass. The room inside was dark and he couldn't make out many details, but around the corner, a small sliver of light shone out from a partially closed door.

"Stay there." He whisper-shouted to Sam, and Sam folded his arms across his chest and remained where he was.

Dean moved swiftly around the side of the house to find the room that he had seen with a light on. He stopped when he rounded a corner and found a soft yellow glow from a window illuminating the grass. Through the window Dean could see Hazel. She was sitting in a rocking chair reading a newspaper with glasses low on her nose. Her hair was up in curlers and she was wrapped in a yellow robe that was at least two sizes too big. For a split second, Dean was convinced they had the wrong person, and he almost felt bad for spying. Then, on a small desk behind Hazel, Dean saw all the proof he needed.

A very thick, very old book was open on the desk. Next to it sat a large wooden bowl. Dean knew enough about witches to be suspicious from those two items alone, but that wasn't what convinced him. Above the bowl there were three photographs taped to the wall. One, of a little girl with dark hair and a pink dress. It looked like a school photo. Dean assumed it was Ellie, the little girl who went deaf, because to the right was a black and white photo of Brad Lanners, clipped right out of a newspaper. To the right of that photo was the one that had caught his eye in the first place. It was a bad picture, blurry and overexposed, but it was unmistakably Sam. He was slouched over a plate of food and in the corner of the photo, Dean could just see the top of his own head. It was taken at Herby's.

Sam was waiting in the driveway when Dean returned, and he tensed when he heard Dean's footsteps on the gravel.

"Relax, Sam, it's me." Dean whispered. "We've definitely got her. Looks like witchcraft."

Sam's eyebrows shot up excitedly and he took a step forward, scraping his foot across the gravel. "That's great!" He whispered a little too loudly. "That means we can probably reverse it."

"Yeah." Dean answered. "But lets not get ahead of ourselves. We still need to get in there first."

Sam nodded. Dean decided to skip knocking on the door. If Hazel saw them standing on the front step, who knows what kind of nasty spell she could whip up really quick before they could get in there and stop her. He wrapped his hand around Sam's elbow, leading him a bit more quietly to the house.

It took less than thirty seconds for Dean to pick the old key lock, and he breathed a sigh of relief when the door didn't squeak as it swung open. Dean stepped inside and paused.

"Maybe you should wait here, Sammy." He whispered. He already knew how Sam was going to react to that suggestion.

"No." Sam said sternly. "No way. Dean, I'm coming with you."

Dean sighed. "Sam, I can focus better if I'm not worrying about you." He felt a little bad for being so blunt, but this was it. Their one shot at fixing this. Dean wasn't going to take chances.

Sam scowled. "I am _not_ going to let you go in there alone." He whispered harshly.

"You can stay right here then." Dean offered. "By the door. If you hear me being killed you can rush in and save the day."

"That's not funny, Dean." Sam snapped.

Dean shrugged. "You good?"

Sam sighed and leaned back against the door. "Yeah. Fine." He whispered unhappily. "Be careful."

"Always am." Dean answered as he tiptoed slowly down the hall, leaving Sam frowning at the front door.

The door to the room Hazel was in was open a crack. He peeked inside and found Hazel exactly as she had been when he saw her through the window. Pulling the gun out of his waistband, Dean took a deep, steadying breath and pushed the door open, gun aimed steadily in front of him.

"Don't move!" He shouted. The door banged against the wall and Hazel shrieked and dropped the newspaper, raising her hands up in surrender.

"Please don't hurt me!" She cried. "I have grandchildren. Take anything you want."

Dean circled around towards the alter with the photos of Sam, Brad, and Ellie. He kept the gun fixed on Hazel as he moved.

"I'm not robbing you." He said. He reached the desk and nodded toward the photos. "What's all that?"

At that point, Hazel recognized him from Herby's. She started to lower her hands, but Dean waved the gun and she put them back in the air. "I remember you." She said. "You were at Herby's last Friday. How's your friend?"

Dean would have laughed if he wasn't so angry. "Blind!" He snapped. "Thanks to you!"

Hazel looked sad and maybe even a little embarrassed. "I was only helping him." She said.

"Helping!" Sam demanded from behind Dean, and Dean spun around, shocked by the unexpected sound. He collected himself quickly and turned back to Hazel, relieved to see that the woman hadn't moved.

"How the hell do you think that making me blind would _help _me?" Sam said.

Hazel shook her head. "I was only trying to help." She repeated. "The things you've seen."

"And what about Brad Lanners?" Dean demanded. "Huh? And that little girl Ellie Gould. Were you just trying to help them, too?"

Hazel looked up at Dean, her eyes pleading. "Yes, of course."

Dean didn't know if the woman was just trying to confuse them or if she honestly believed she was helping. Either way, it wasn't what he had been expecting. He lowered the gun but kept his finger on the trigger, ready to react to the first sign of danger.

"How were you helping?" He asked.

"Little Ellie Gould listened to her parents fight every day." Hazel explained. "She sat in her room and cried as her mother called her father nasty names and her father admitted to having an an affair. She didn't want to hear them any more." Hazel paused and looked to Dean for any reaction. He didn't give any, and she continued. "Brad Lanners went to that awful stripper bar every week and looked at those girls." She frowned and then added sheepishly. "I was helping his wife and son that time."

"And Sam?"

Hazel looked over Dean's shoulder to where Sam stood in the doorway, a look of disbelief on his face.

"The things you've seen." She said again. "Such horrible things."

"That's bull." Dean said angrily. "I've seen the same things as Sam, and–"

"No." Hazel cut him off. "He sees so much evil. So much death." She brought her hand to the side of her head and held it there. "Here." She said.

"His visions?" Dean asked.

"I deal with it." Sam said. "I would rather see the visions than nothing at all."

Dean turned to Sam. His brother was standing his full height, shoulders squared. Trying to look authoritative, Dean thought. Trying to prove his point and convince Hazel that he knew what he wanted. To Dean, though, Sam just looked like his little brother. His little brother who needed his help. Who needed him to fix things. Who depended on him to make everything okay.

"Fix him." Dean demanded, pointing the gun back at Hazel.

She put her hands back in the air and her eyes widened. "I was only trying to help." She said for the third time. "If you really want to go back, Sam, if it's what you really want..."

"It's what I want." Sam growled.

"You'll see those awful things again." Hazel tried. "It may never stop."

"I'll take that chance." Sam said.

Hazel sighed and lowered her hands, despite the gun that was pointed at her.

"Very well." She said.

She stood and went to the alter. Dean watched her suspiciously. It would be all to easy for her to cast another spell, to make things even worse.

"No funny business." He warned.

Hazel grabbed the photo of Sam without a word and placed it in the wooden bowl. She pulled a jar from under the table and sprinkled a little of the powder into the bowl, then lit a match, recited a few words from the book, and dropped the match into the bowl. It hissed and sparked, then died. Dean tensed and watched Sam carefully out of the corner of his eye as he waited.

"It's done." Hazel said.

Dean spun around to Sam. He blinked rapidly and rubbed at his eyes. Dean waited expectantly.

"It didn't work." Sam said. His voice was strained, trying to hold back emotion.

"Sometimes it can take up to a full day for the spell to take." Hazel explained.

Dean looked between Sam and Hazel, unsure of what to do. A part of him believed that Hazel was really just trying to do what she thought was right. He wanted to believe that the woman had put things back to normal, but the thing he was gambling with was his brother's sight, and he didn't want to take the risk.

"How do we know you're not lying?" Dean demanded.

"Check the book for yourself." Hazel offered, stepping back from the alter and waving a hand toward the book.

Dean stepped forward and peered down at the book. He didn't understand the words of the spell, but the title on the page was clearly labeled _sensory deprivation _and underneath it was the counter-spell.

"Do the others, too." Dean said.

Hazel hesitated, but the gun in Dean's hand convinced her to do as he said, and she repeated the process with Ellie and Brad Lanners' photos.

"They will return to normal." Hazel said sadly once the counter-spells were complete.

"Good." Dean said. "And if I ever hear of you doing this again, we'll be back." He warned. "And next time we wont be so understanding."

Hazel gave them her word and they hesitantly left her behind and returned to the hotel. They made it back to the AmericInn without any luck.

"You think it'll work?" Sam asked once they were in the room, each on their respective bed. It had been hours since they left Hazel's, and Dean was frustrated and nervous and tired. He couldn't sleep, though, no matter how hard he tried.

"Yeah. I do." He answered, and he wasn't sure if he really believed it or if he was just trying to reassure Sam. If things weren't back to normal by morning, Dean decided, they were going back to Hazel's and they weren't leaving until Sam could see again.

* * *

><p>"Dean!"<p>

Dean jerked awake and sat up in bed, reaching for his gun and preparing for a fight.

"What?" He asked, still groggy from being pulled out of sleep too quickly. Come to think of it, Dean didn't remember falling asleep at all. The last time he remembered seeing the clock, it was four in the morning and Sam was still awake. He looked at the clock now. It was 6:00am. Two hours of sleep he had gotten. He wondered if Sam had gotten any at all.

"Dean." Sam said again, and Dean rubbed his tired eyes and looked at his brother. Sam met his gaze and Dean was suddenly wide awake. He raised a hand and waved at Sam dumbly. Sam watched Dean's hand move and then smirked. "I can see that." He said.

Dean jumped out of bed and went to stand in front of Sam. "You can see?" He asked excitedly.

"Yeah." Sam answered, a wide grin on his face. "It just came back. Just as fast as it left."

They spent a good ten minutes just being glad that everything had worked out in the end. Sam paced and commented on the poorly decorated room. He flipped through a newspaper that had been left in front of their door, too quickly to be reading the words, just marveling the simple sight of it. Finally, Dean suggested that they get the hell out of town, and Sam hastily agreed. They had a demon to catch, after all. Bobby had a lead, and with their help, the son-of-a-bitch wouldn't be hurting anyone else ever again. They packed in record time. Dean took one last look at the small hotel room he had spent the last five days in. He gave the room the all clear and met Sam at the car.

"Hey, Dean?" Sam said over the hood of the Impala.

Dean paused at the driver's door. "Yeah?"

Sam was quiet for a long moment, staring off down the road. Dean followed his gaze. The sun was just beginning to rise, painting the sky a brilliant orange and the fields below yellow with dark shadows. The road ahead curved over a soft hill and disappeared into the line of silhouetted trees in the distance. It was beautiful, really, and Dean couldn't imagine never seeing a sunrise again.

Sam exhaled audibly and they both turned back to face each other. "Can I drive?"

Dean smiled. "Sure, Sammy." He said, and handed his brother the keys.

**END**

* * *

><p><strong>Thanks so much for reading, everyone! I hope you enjoyed it! :D<br>**


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